The street seemed so much smaller now
The grime and the smell were still the same though
Engrained like the people who lived there
It was the only thing that never left him
She stayed at twenty-three
One tough girl
Christ, he still remembers the day she knocked him out
Slightly concussed, he proposed to her
Not bad for a twelve-year-old
She couldn’t stop laughing
She wasn’t marrying no wimp that day
In fact, her daily ritual was knocking him down
Mum, is love painful
If it’s true love, it can be
It was, his head was testament to that
He just kept going back for more
To give her, her due, she was happy to give it to him
One day he told her straight. I don’t care how many times you knock me down. I’m going to be your boyfriend. He waited for the punch
She kissed him
He fell down again
She starting laughing
It felt like the greatest feeling ever
They became inseparable after that
Young love had conquered
One day she told him she was going away
I’m going with you
It’s not that kind of going away
Is there another kind
It’s the dying kind of going away
Yes, but you won't die for a long time
A year the doctors said
That didn’t make sense to him
We’ll just have to make the most of it, she said
Make the most of it
The most precious year of his young life
She died the way she lived.
Demanding he did the best he could with his life
There were times when he really struggled
Times he thought of joining her
The pain in his head always changed that
Even in death, she got to him
The years passed by
He made good
She would be proud of him
The street seemed so much smaller now
The grime and the smell were still the same though
Engrained like the people who lived there
It was good to be home...
-
Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 9th, 2022 05:19
- Category: Love
- Views: 27
- Users favorite of this poem: spilleronsheet
Offline)
Comments3
Memories, some sad some happy. They are an important part of our lives. You have started me thinking about places I lived in many years back and the people I met. Thank you.
Always good to go back and relive the past.
So poignant
So touching
And made me so teary
That pen of your when did it start writing sad romantic tales
Very good one dear Paul
Sometimes you need a bit of sad, keeps you grounded. Got a bit teary myself, mind you.
Such an emotive write Paul, very good.
Andy
Thanks, Andy.
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